Reversing Over Liberace (25 page)

“I won't. I want you.”

“For now. As for the rest, I'm used to losing people.” He held his hand out to me, I took it and his fingers closed around mine, pulling me to my feet. Still without speaking, he led me up the wonky staircase, slowly, hesitantly, across the landing and into the beamed bedroom, where the sun arched onto the bare boards, painting the walls a dying scarlet and flame. For a moment we stood in the middle of the room, hand in hand, staring at each other, waiting, both of us trying to ride the moment and not spoil anything by moving too fast.

At last, when the tension between us was stretched so tight that I could hardly breathe, he reached out and touched my face. Time exploded into crazy freeze-frame moments, his lips against my neck, my fingers tangled in his hair, hands beneath clothes. That second when we'd undressed each other and stood naked as the sun slipped beneath the eaves and put a blanket of shadow on the floor. We lay, whispering in the ghostlight, wondering at one another's bodies, touching, exploring, mouths and hands and eyes and then, finally, locking together, rocking and sliding and eventually cascading into lip-biting chaos until we both fell, satisfied.

And, oh yes, for once Ash had hardly exaggerated at all.

Chapter Twenty-four

I don't know how I managed it, but I slept. When I woke up to a draught poking at me from between the floorboards, I found I'd been covered with Cal's shirt and my dress and I was lying spread-eagled and alone on the dusty ground. A shape, which could either have been a small mouse or a huge spider, scuttled into a shadowed corner opposite and I crouched to my feet. There was no sign of Cal, apart from the shirt. Stiff and chilly and blurry with sex, I dressed and went downstairs. Darkness had fallen, silvered by the moon, and I could see the barn door standing open. There was an overspill of green glow on the yard cobbles and the silhouetted figure of someone walking up and down inside. Either Cal was working or ET had phoned home.

“What's going on?” Adjusting my dress for length and coverage, I went in. Cal was pacing the hay-strewn floor, barefoot and shirtless, talking urgently and quietly into his headset, the laptop screen was displaying an entire menu of icons in front of him.

“It… I've been… Hold on a second. Someone just came in.”

“Who, Willow? You get laid, Sandman?” Cal's flick of the button was too late to prevent me hearing the voice from the speaker. His grimace of embarrassment made me laugh.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay. They must know you pretty well.”

“I really meant, sorry about everything. Earlier. I…it wasn't how I wanted it to be, that's all. You deserved better.”

“Wow, you can do better than
that
?”

He smiled. “There should at least have been a bed. Sex on the floor is a bit…”

“It was fantastic, Cal. Really, really, amazing.”

Now he laughed. “Not bad for a lame geek, eh?”

“Not bad at all.” It was still happening. Undiluted by the earlier passion, his eyes had the same fascination for me. I'd supposed so far that it was the mystery, the unfathomability of Cal that I found attractive. Now I knew it was so much more than that. “Have you found anything else on Luke's machine?”

“You are changing the subject.”

“Well, we could stand here all night and talk about how fabulously sexy you are, but you're insufferable enough already, so?”

“No, let's stand here all night and talk about how fabulously sexy I am. Honestly, you'll like it far more as a topic.”

“Why, what did you find?”

“Letters and emails, all to women. I've only just got started, seems like he's been shagging all over the country.” Cal tilted the screen towards me. “Oh yeah, and he's got a file on you, too.”

“Show me.”

Cal nudged me aside and typed in a password. “Sickgirl? His password for my files is
Sickgirl
? I didn't even think he knew.” I scanned down the page. Luke had my address, my family members' names and jobs, all kinds of things about what I liked and disliked. I blushed to read some of it, but Cal had already found out for himself. “The bastard.”

The other women predated my meeting Luke. “I wondered how he managed to shake off the credit card people and repay the loans. Companies like that don't just forget about you, after all.” Cal was reading over my shoulder. “Looks like he found women to pay them off for him. Oh, and before you ask, I've copied all these files onto my hard drive.”

“We have to stop him.” I didn't realise I'd spoken aloud. “He's
used
all these women. Somewhere out there there's women feeling like I do, and he doesn't even care. He's just kept paying off his debts, dumping the women and leaving.” I met Cal's eyes. “We
have
to stop him.”

“How? He's got away with it so far, and I'm sure most of these women”—Cal flicked the screen—“felt exactly the same when they found that he'd skipped out with their wallets. No one's managed to bring him down yet.”

“But they didn't have
proof
,” I said. “They didn't have
this
.” I copied Cal and flicked the screen. “I bet every one of these women thought they were the only one and felt stupid when they found out they'd been fooled. Or maybe they never did. Maybe he got the cash and then broke up with them, like here. ‘I need some space, some time to myself, so I'm going to work in Africa. I'll call you when I get back from the Missionary Hospital.' Yeah right. He can't even cope with the missionary position, never mind the hospital.”

“Oh, badmouth him again. It makes me feel good.”

“Good? In comparison, you're a bloody saint.”

Cal raised an eyebrow and thrust his pelvis forward in a very unsaintly gesture. Unfortunately he spoiled the effect by having to grab at the wall so as not to fall. “Wonder if Patron Saint of Nerds is still vacant?”

“Not sure, but I think Patron Saint of Cocky Bastards might be available.” As I looked up at him, he grinned and, if his smiles before had lit up his surroundings, this one illuminated several acres.

“Can you blame me? I mean, really, Willow, can you? Look at yourself. You're beautiful, you're any man's idea of sexy and you've slept with
me
. I can hardly get my head around it.”

“Cal. You and I—”

“Please, don't.” The smile died and the pain crept back, inching onto his face. “Don't say it. Just let me have these dreams. Don't let real life come into it, not yet.” One hand reached out, fingers traced down the side of my cheek. “Let me pretend,” he whispered.

A whistling noise made both of us flinch. High-pitched, it couldn't fail to attract attention and his hand fell away from my face. “What is it?” My voice came out small, uncertain.

“The guys. Sorry, Willow, I'm on something right now I've got to finish. I'll run you home when I'm done, okay?” As he spoke he picked up the headset, slid it on. “Do you want to take the laptop inside and read through everything?”

What else was there to do?

How many others had there been?
The emails and laptop dated back about two years. But from what I remembered of Zakalwe's research, Luke had vanished off the bad-debt radar several years ago. That meant that all these women, and so far I'd counted nine, were only the tip of the iceberg. Presumably he was keeping their details so that he never found himself backtracking—there must be whole areas of Britain he could never go to again in case someone recognised him.

Things came back to me. Our first date, in the restaurant, when his mobile had rung and he'd turned it off after he'd checked the number, then been called on the restaurant phone. And he'd told me it was James.
How would James have known where Luke was?
It had been the other woman, the one I'd started to think of as Luke's real girlfriend, hadn't it? Calling from home. He must have spun her some line about entertaining a client, covering himself in case someone saw us and reported back. Was that what he'd always told her? Was that why he'd never worried about us being seen together? No wonder then that he'd taken so long to get around to sex with me. I bet he'd been scared shitless she'd find out. Then there was the flat. He'd rented it. Never intended to buy. I was sure I'd never been meant to find that out. All that stuff about a friend who made designer furniture. Had Luke been about to take more money from me? To “buy furniture”? The careful, concealed questions about the progress of Ganda's invention. The texts from his alleged mother. Now that I knew about Luke, everything began to slot into place. It had all been about the money. Somehow he'd known about the money. All that garbage about fancying me at uni…
It had all been about the money.

I was crying again. I thought I'd done all my crying over Luke Fry by now, but it couldn't be helped. Not only had he lied about his life, but he'd lied about
me
. How attractive had he found me,
really
? Okay, he'd managed sex with me, but I'd yet to meet any man who'd turn down a willing partner. All the time I'd been building a relationship with him, planning for our future, he'd known we didn't have one. What a bastard. And now I wasn't crying for myself, I was crying for all of us, with our ruined dreams and unused wedding dresses, for all the broken promises and shattered hearts, and I knew that I owed it not just to myself, but to all the lonely, deserted women out there, to nail the fucker to the
wall
.

Chapter Twenty-five

“Call for you, Willow.” Katie shouted through from the front office. “It's Luke!” Then, screwing up her face, she covered the mouthpiece of the phone and made stabbing motions at it.

“Oh.” My heart started pounding. “I suppose I'd better… Hell, Katie, what shall I say?”

“Tell him to go rot his carcass in acid, the double-crossing liar.”

“That might be a bit prejudicial. Anyway, we don't want him to know we're on to him.”

“True.” Katie did the
Psycho
stab a few more times. “Can I blow the dirty-caller whistle at him though? Oh, please, Will, just once.”

“Go on then,” I said, indulgent as a parent, and Katie fetched the ear-blaster of a whistle which we kept for deafening phone pests, dealing Luke a drum-splitting blast. “Sorry about that, Luke,” I said, retrieving the phone from her. “We've got a fault on the line.”

I was afraid that the tremble in my voice would give everything away, but Luke really didn't listen to me. “Hey, Willow, have you got over that flu bug yet? Only I thought we might go somewhere this weekend?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” I tried to ignore Katie doing hanging man faces and pretending to throw up. “But I've got an appointment at the council offices on Friday afternoon to go and see Ganda's invention being tested.”

“Oh, right.” As I'd thought, he didn't want to come between me and a potential half a million pounds, or at least he did, but only in a purely open wallet way. “Never mind, only a thought. We don't seem to have seen much of each other lately and I'm missing you.”

Yeah, and I'm missing you, too. But my aim is improving all the time. “I'm sorry. I've been really busy at work, what with the flu, and now OC's home from hospital, it's hell on earth. I don't like to leave her alone with the boys. Clay's too absent-minded and Ash tries to amuse Grace by sitting her in front of WWF. I'm sure she's going to grow up with a fixation on men in leopard-skin trunks.” I found that, if I kept talking, it didn't feel so bad. When he turned on the treacle-charm, it was hard. He did it now.

“Only, I'm
really
missing you, if you know what I mean. I keep thinking of you, naked on the floor in the flat, the way you stroke my—”

“I'll give you a ring and let you know how Friday goes.” I hurriedly put the phone down and let out a long breath. “I wouldn't put it past him to turn up in the office next. If he does, will you say I've gone out?”

“I'll do better than that, I'll set Clive on him. He can tell Luke you've gone lesbian. He tells people that anyway, every time you've turned him down.”

“Now that Luke's got the smell of money, I think it would take more to put him off. Oh, has Cal rung back yet?”

Katie looked at me pityingly. “You've got it bad, haven't you? No, Willow, he hasn't rung. I would tell you if he did.” Cal, since dropping me off at my front door, hadn't been seen or heard from. I'd left so many messages that his answerphone tape was full, but he hadn't replied. “Why are you so uptight?”

“Because I had fantastic sex with him the other night.”

“You
what
?” Katie sank back into her chair. “You lucky, lucky cow. Can I have a turn with him next?”

“You've got Dan.”

“Your point is? No, I don't mean that. Dan's lovely. It's just, jeezus, woman, if you were any more jammy, you'd be a pudding. Cal, eh?” She got up and shouldered her filing pile, heading out of the office, but sprang back through the door a moment later. “No, it's no good. I've tried, but I've got to know.
What was it like
?”

For the sake of sparing Cal's blushes, should I ever get to see him again, I only gave her the edited highlights. But even those were enough to make her shake her head and mutter things about lucky, lucky bitches. She made me go over and over it. Spellbound, she insisted, by the romance of it all.

“There's nothing romantic about cold floorboards under your bum.”

“Listen, Willow, with a man like that, it would be romantic shagging in the freezer section in Sainsbury's. He was born romantic, you can tell. Why else would he grow his hair and wear all that black?”

“Jazz wears black.”

“That's only so the dirt doesn't show. Jazz has all the romance of a bin liner. Come on, Willow, admit it. Your man is the ride of the century.”